


Falling Fast

by Princess of Geeks (Princess)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: AU, Episode: The Changeling, First Time, Homophobia, M/M, Romance, canon AU, season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 04:00:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2567438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess/pseuds/Princess%20of%20Geeks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for SG Diva for the 2014 Jack/Daniel Ficathon on Livejournal and Dreamwidth. There is an AO3 collection for this ficathon. </p><p>Set during the Season 6 AU episode "Changelings," this fic shows how Dr. Jackson and District Fire Chief O'Neill got together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling Fast

The United Fund Annual Labor Day Weekend Softball Tournament was going splendidly by Jack's standards, meaning the Fire Department team was winning. They were methodically advancing through the rounds, mowing down the Domestic Violence Intervention agency, the Police Department, and the Visiting Nurses. It was now their fourth game, top of the second, and Jack, at last, was getting a complete look at the batting order of Mercy General. The first inning had been short, thanks to his usual impeccable pitching. Despite the fact that his shoulder was not what it was, and T. would, as usual, take over for him by the sixth inning (maybe even the fifth, today, but the omens were good so far), he'd struck out two in the first, and Carter and Quinn's fielding had taken care of two runners. So far, so good. The score was one to nothing, and Jack wasn't expecting much in this inning from what had to be the bottom of the barrel in terms of Mercy's batters.

Coming to the plate was a handsome bespectacled guy wearing cargo shorts, the obligatory hospital logo T-shirt that served for a uniform, and a self-deprecating attitude that shouted, "I'm only here because it's for charity."

Jack had him pegged. He fouled twice, and eventually struck out with great enthusiasm. His thing was scratching the back of his head and messing with his glasses to buy some time between pitches. As he walked back to the bench, futilely twirling his bat, Jack allowed himself the indulgence of admiring the guy's tight ass. The way his shoulders stretched out the T-shirt wasn't too shabby either.

Yup, the day was going great. Jack pulled on the brim of his cap and waited implacably for his next batter.

And in an hour or so, Fire/Rescue had beaten Mercy 6 to 2, with T. closing them out flawlessly after Jack bowed out in the sixth.

It was a good day.

The next game at their diamond was a pointless contest between two teams which had never won in the five years Jack had been participating, so he figured it was time to grab some food and attend to the social and political side of things.

He chatted up the Fire Chief and the director of Mercy's ER, then headed for the chow line. He found himself grabbing a plastic plate just behind Siler.

"Nice hit in the seventh, buddy," Jack said, as he punched him cheerfully in the shoulder. Jack was glad that Siler had signed up for this day, had chosen to get out and about. Man had had a tough year.

"Thanks, Chief," Siler said, loading up his plate. "Mercy's pitcher wasn't nearly as good as that doctor they had last year. What was her name?"

"Fraiser. You're right. This guy couldn't hold a candle to her."

"You did a great job with the strikeouts," Siler continued.

"We try," Jack said modestly. He passed up the regular hot dogs in favor of a couple of bratwurst.

"It would have been nice if you could have let Doctor Jackson on base, though, I gotta say."

"What? Why, Siler -- that's treason."

"I'm just saying. He's new on their staff since last year. He was the one who helped me; you could have thrown him a bone."

"That was your shrink, you mean?"

Siler nodded enthusiastically. "But he won't hold it against you that you struck him out. Probably." And Siler actually grinned lopsidedly at Jack before putting a five in the donation can and scooting off to sit beside Carter. The two of them had motorcycles to discuss, as usual.

Jack stood there a moment at the end of the buffet line, lost in thought. In June, Siler had needed help from all of them to deal with not being able to save that little girl. Jack himself wouldn't forget that fire for a long time. He gathered his wits and stuffed his own donation in the can. Grabbing a couple of waters out of the cooler, he headed for Siler and Carter's table.

As he dodged Reynolds' sons, who were chasing each other while throwing chunks of watermelon, his gaze was caught by a flash of sunlight off gold glasses, and he recognized Siler's Doctor Jackson at the next table over. Jack didn't know the people Jackson was talking with, but there was an empty seat next to him. Good a time as any to say 'thanks.'

Jackson looked up as Jack balanced beside him and put a foot over the bench, then, still talking away, he nodded in greeting. Smiling in return, Jack sat down and dug into his bratwurst.

The conversation was some kind of gossip about a pending sale of the hospital. When there was a break, and Jackson turned to him, Jack offered his hand, first checking for mustard.

"Jack O'Neill -- Fire Department."

"I know," Jackson said, grinning as they shook. "You just struck me out. Three times."

"No hard feelings," Jack said. Jackson simply raised his eyebrows and took a bite of potato salad. Jack must have missed that part of the buffet in his rush for the bratwurst. "I just wanted to come by and thank you for helping one of my guys this summer. Andrew Siler says good things about you. He's the one who--"

"I remember," Jackson said, and grimaced at the memory. He put down his fork. He looked down and took a deep breath, then met Jack's eyes again. "I'm glad he felt that way. But it's the clients who do all the work, you know."

"You can't tell me that the counselor doesn't matter. People aren't interchangeable, like robots."

"True." Jackson looked rueful, and very far away for a moment.

"Anyway. I just wanted to introduce myself and thank you. Do you always work in the hospital? Or do you have a private practice too?"

"The hospital keeps me quite busy," Jackson said. "It's a relatively recent development, the idea of on-staff psychologists instead of outside referrals through the social services department. But I think it makes a lot of sense. Particularly with traumatic events, the sooner we can intervene, the sooner the person can get better."

Jack ate while they talked. Daniel Jackson was apparently quite passionate about his work, and also interested in the big-picture trends in his field -- besides being gorgeous. They talked about the hospital, where Jackson had worked for about six months, and Jack discovered he was new in town as well as new to the job. That led to a discussion of recommendations for fishing spots, gyms, restaurants, and the like. Then Jackson surprised him.

He said, "I've already discovered some places for music -- in fact, I got to see a terrific local jazz group last week at the Underground."

Jack sat up a little straighter. It was the biggest and fanciest of the gay clubs in the city, with room for a stage as well as a dance floor. Jackson's expression had acquired a hint of challenge as he waited for Jack's reaction. "I haven't been there in a long time," Jack said, without batting an eye. "Did you know they do a supper club thing sometimes? Catered prime rib and so forth?"

"I didn't know that," Jackson said, and his expression relaxed -- all but his eyes, which had sharpened with new interest.

"You should check out Avery's, though. It's an old-fashioned piano bar. Much quieter."

"Ah," Jackson said, and an inviting smile curved along one side of his mouth. "And better music."

"If you like jazz," Jack smiled in return.

"O'Neill!" Jack turned. It was Quinn, waving from the edge of the eating area. "They're calling our next game!"

With a fleeting sense of disappointment, Jack extricated himself from the picnic table bench and shook Jackson's hand again. "Gotta run. Welcome to the neighborhood, Doctor Jackson."

"Please, it's Daniel." And he took just the second longer to let go of Jack's hand, just the second longer to look away from Jack's gaze -- all the signal Jack needed to understand that the dropped hairpin had been more than a subtle check on Jack's sensibilities about gays. Jackson was definitely making an overture.

Jack smiled softly, and let a little of his admiration show in his eyes. "Daniel, then. See you around." And with that, their hands finally fell away.

Jack didn't turn to look, but the tingle at the back of his neck told him the new shrink was watching him walk away.

Yeah.

~~~~

Morris had broken his collarbone falling through the attic floor of an old house. The marshal was pretty sure the cause of the fire had been bad wiring, but the final report would take another week or so. Morris would be okay; in fact he was already bored, in his hospital bed, and he was supposed to get to go home in a day or so.

Jack left his room feeling encouraged. The hall wasn't very crowded, but there were kids to dodge, since it was visiting hours. He looked up after navigating around a bunch of balloons that was bigger than the little girl who held it, and found himself face to face with Daniel Jackson.

"Chief O'Neill," Daniel said, and he looked pleased.

They shook hands. "If I'm supposed to call you 'Daniel'," Jack chided, "then I can't be 'Chief O'Neill.' "

"Jack, then." Daniel grinned outright. Jack intentionally didn't let go of his hand. It had been a week since the charity softball tournament, and Jack had found himself thinking often about this man -- his ready smile, his sharp gaze. His great ass.

"I'd love to catch up," Daniel said, giving Jack's hand a final squeeze. "But I'm on my way to an appointment."

"Of course," Jack said, instantly formal. "In that case, do you have a card? I'd like to call you."

"Yeeesss," Daniel said, pulling out his wallet and producing a business card. He looked a bit hesitant.

"Not for therapy," Jack clarified. "So I can call you when you're somewhere that's not here, to see if you want to have dinner."

"Ah," Daniel said, and the smile was back. He gave Jack the card. "That would be, um, great." He put his hands in his pockets, put his head down, which served to hide his smile not at all, and walked on down the corridor."

Jack grinned as he slipped the card into his shirt pocket. This was gonna be... fun.

~~~~

"Oh my god," Daniel groaned. They'd actually made it to the bedroom, which had not been a foregone conclusion when he'd turned to his guest in the entryway of his condo and put a hand on his shoulder. "May I--" was all of the sentence he'd been able to articulate before Jack leaned in eagerly.

The kiss was more than Daniel had hoped for. More than he'd imagined.

Now, Daniel, seated on the side of his bed, ran shaking hands through Jack's cropped hair and tried not to melt. "That's so good -- it's been so long, you forget... oh... Oh, god...." He could feel Jack smiling around his dick, feel the vibrations of his chuckle shivering through his flesh and settling in his balls. "God, so good."

He gave up to it, just let it happen, let Jack's hot mouth and inventive tongue push him to the edge of orgasm. "So close," Daniel gasped. "Close..."

Jack slowed way down, then; stilled his tongue and softened his lips and gently push-pulled Daniel's dick a few times before easing off.

"Christ," Daniel said, and slumped backward on the bed. He felt suddenly chilled, away from the warmth of Jack's mouth. His climax receded a bit. He fumbled at his glasses. He still had them on!

He realized that Jack was taking his shoes off of him. And peeling down his socks.

"God," he said again, closing his eyes. His feet were bare now. Jack took his glasses out of his hand. They clicked on the nightstand. The bed shifted. Daniel opened his eyes, and, forcing distracted muscles to move, sat up.

Jack was stripping, standing there in front of him, a lopsided grin making him even more breathtakingly handsome.

Daniel cleared his throat. "I'd better catch up," he said, and pushed his khakis and boxers to the floor in a jingle of change and belt buckle. Undoing one button of his dress shirt let him strip it and his undershirt over his head, the handful of cotton falling where it would.

"Jesus, you're gorgeous," Jack was saying, leaning over him, kissing him again -- incredible, controlled kisses, mostly lips, and then Jack's hand was on his cheek and he could feel the bead bracelet against his jaw and they were leaning, falling, back on the bed in a collision of skin and warmth.

Daniel put his arms around Jack and moved them, getting their feet on the mattress, getting more skin to press against, to push against. He put a hand on the back of Jack's head, pushed his tongue into Jack's mouth, and was rewarded with a moan. The hot, wet kissing went on until Daniel was drunk with it.

Jack pulled back from his mouth to press kisses to his cheek and to his neck. "I was afraid I was going too fast, but you are just so irresistible," Jack murmured between kisses. "From that day I saw you at the softball game, I've been thinking about you."

"Me, too," Daniel said, loving the rumble of Jack's voice, loving the feel of his shoulders. "And no, this isn't too fast."

"Good," Jack said again, and he was reaching between them, pulling both erections into his big, warm hand. Daniel clutched his back and pressed his hips forward. His mouth found the thick muscle where neck met shoulder and sucked. When Jack jolted, cursing, his dick got harder and Daniel put some teeth into it. Jack's hand was moving faster now, stripping them both, and Daniel groaned and let his head fall back and came in a hot spill. Jack was groaning too, his climax right after Daniel's. It seemed to go on forever, pulling him down into velvety darkness.

When he could think again, when he could see, he was panting, his chest slick against Jack's, who was apparently equally out of breath. In Daniel's loose embrace, Jack had slid sideways to rest his head on the mattress beside Daniel's own. Daniel made his pleasure-drugged muscles move and squeezed Jack's shoulder.

"Wow," Daniel said, and Jack laughed, low and pleased. He pushed up and away and rolled to one side, trapping Daniel's arm under his neck. The breeze from the ceiling fan made Daniel cup a hand over his damp, deflated cock. His skin began to cool.

"I'm really glad this worked out," Jack said softly, as he eased closer and bent his arm to run his fingertips through Daniel's hair. "I wanted this tonight and I'm really, really glad you did, too."

" 'Glad' may be somewhat of an understatement," Daniel said, bringing up his hand to rest on Jack's.

"Good," Jack said. "That's good."

~~~

The priorities meeting was always at 8 sharp, and when Daniel came into the conference room at five after, balancing his files atop his coffee cup, nearly all the chairs were full and the conversation was already rolling. Heads turned as he came in.

"Glad you could join us, Daniel," his department head said drily, from her seat at the head of the table.

Daniel's eyebrows went up as he found a chair against the wall and sat. About a third of the people around the conference table had that rumpled, up-all-night look. He frowned. Had he missed something big?

"Hand those to Daniel, would you?" the department head continued, pushing a set of files down the table to the staffer nearest Daniel. The staffer whose report Daniel had interrupted continued, "There are two more families who need to be checked on, but I can do those if we can hand off my intakes today to the ER worker, and if Daniel can handle the existing inpatients."

"Sure," Daniel said, accepting the files. "What happened?"

"Fire and explosion overnight," his boss said crisply. "We have two in the burn unit and four more recovering from surgery."

Daniel nodded at her, a sudden coldness gripping his heart, and flipped through the files, looking for names. One of them was Jack O'Neill.

~~~

Jack wasn't in the burn unit, which was apparently an amazing stroke of luck.

"It happened outside the warehouse, as he was trying to set up the units after the third alarm was called in. A bunch of paint exploded." Sam Carter kept her voice to a low whisper, and Daniel leaned in to hear her, while finding it hard to take his eyes off Jack. He was unconscious or asleep in his hospital bed; it was hard to tell which.

"No one knew the paint was even in there," she said, sounding frustrated. "The place was registered to a business that didn't have anything to do with paint or chemicals. Everyone was caught off guard."

Daniel nodded, trying to catalog Jack's injuries for himself. They'd pinned Jack's leg, he'd heard unofficially, and it was attached to a cable from the ceiling. Traction, then. It was too soon to tell how he was reacting to whatever fumes he'd inhaled. He looked okay as he slept -- a little banged up, but Daniel knew all too well that sometimes the worst injuries were invisible.

"Do you need anything?" he asked, tearing his attention from the figure in the bed, and looking, really looking, at the woman beside him. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her uniform was rumpled, but otherwise she apparently was uninjured.

"No, heck no. I'm fine; all of us on that side were fine except Jack. We were still back at the trucks; he'd gone ahead to check out the situation while we started unloading." She shook her head. Then her expression turned solemn. "It's the guys from District Two I'm worried about. They lost one. Simmons was in the lead, pulling the first hose, when the paint went up. You might be checking on his family."

Daniel nodded. That name hadn't been in his list -- because the hospital hadn't even had a chance to try to save him.

Captain Carter sighed. "I called Jack's sister. She lives out of state, but she said she'd come as soon as she could. That's who was listed as his next of kin." She folded her arms, leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. "I've worked with the guy for two years and we never talked about it; who to call, who the family is." She met Daniel's eyes again. "It makes you think."

"Times like this really do," Daniel agreed. He put a hand on her arm, gave her a squeeze. She smiled. She looked steady -- no choked back tears, no shakiness. She was coping.

She went on, "T. and Siler will be along pretty soon, to sit with him. I'll go on back to the station in a bit and let everyone know how he's doing, before I head home. God, I could sleep for a week."

"This was a big one," Daniel ventured.

"Biggest I've seen so far," she clarified. "But Simmons. That's going to hit everyone hard. I was at the academy with him. He was a good guy." Daniel squeezed her arm again, and stood up. He folded his arms and let his gaze rest on Jack's face one more time. He had a line between his eyebrows, as if he was in pain even as he slept.

"Can I bring you something," he said to the woman beside him. "Some coffee? Something from the cafeteria?"

"I couldn't eat, but coffee would be great. Thank you, Doctor Jackson."

"Please," he said, "call me Daniel."

~~~

Sam had drunk her coffee, and Daniel had noticed later, during his very busy morning, that she had indeed been replaced in her vigil by two other firefighters. They'd showed up in clean and freshly pressed uniforms and taken her place at Jack's bedside. Once, as he hurried by, he saw them standing near the bed, and wondered if Jack had awakened, but he had no time to stop.

It wasn't until after lunch that he had a half-hour free to grab a coffee and check on Jack again. This time he was awake.

Daniel hesitated in the door of the room. He raised his hand to knock on the jamb, but Jack's eyes were already tracking to him and away from the little TV screen. Daniel couldn't hear any noise from the TV; had he been watching it with the sound down?

He smiled and knocked anyway.

"Hey," he said, and Jack raised an IV'd hand (Daniel winced in sympathy) and wiggled his fingers in answer.

Daniel came up to the bed as Jack fumbled for the remote and switched off the screen. It was a baseball game, Daniel noted. There was already a chair by the bed.

"It's good to see you," Daniel began, sitting down. "I heard about the explosion this morning from Sam Carter."

Jack made face that conveyed, _Yeah, it was awful,_ , but he didn't try to talk. Instead he scrabbled in the covers next to him for a notepad and a pen. Daniel raised his eyebrows. Jack wrote, and then held up the pad. He was right-handed.

 _Doc says I shouldn't talk,_ Daniel read. The script was looping and decisive, taking up plenty of space. _Inhaled fumes._

"That makes sense, from what Sam told me," Daniel said, trying as best he could to conceal the jolt of worry that swept through him.

Jack shrugged, conveying "What are you gonna do," quite eloquently.

Daniel began to ramble, guessing Jack would simply like to hear someone else's voice. He talked about seeing Sam, seeing two other firemen visiting Jack, and the cases that had taken up his morning. Jack seemed to relish hearing about his activities. He settled back on his pillows and relaxed a little, very focused on Daniel's face.

"It's really good to see you awake," Daniel finished, finding himself somewhat at a loss. Despite what they'd done together not 72 hours before, he was suddenly, awkwardly aware of how little he really knew this man. Their attraction had been mutual and instant; that was true. But there was so much he didn't know. So much, he realized, he wanted to know.

"Can I..." he began, then trailed off.

Jack looked receptive, but Daniel looked away. Was he presuming? He wanted to ask if he could take Jack's hand. He wanted to touch. Just sitting here was so ... distant. But he didn't know what Jack would welcome, here. So little privacy, and their professional lives impinging. On the other hand, Jack had been happy to pick up on Daniel's exploratory hint about the gay bars, back at the picnic. And that night, the night of their first date, he'd been an eager and charming lover. Affectionate, even -- Daniel didn't think he was kidding himself on that point.

But Daniel was all too aware of how off-balance he felt here, in this public and uncomfortable setting. He depended so much on verbal cues, on conversation, for everything -- with friends, clients, co-workers.

"This is hard," he said out loud.

Jack looked down for a moment. He seemed to come to some resolve. When he looked up, his brown eyes were soft and inviting. He held out his hand. Not very high and not very far, as if to reassure Daniel that it was an invitation that could be refused.

But Daniel didn't want to refuse. Not at all. Relief and affection swept through him. He scooted his chair closer and took Jack's hand, careful of the IV.

"Yeah," Daniel said, drawing out the vowels. "That's better." He rested their hands on the nondescript bedspread -- dark blue ribbed cotton, standard hospital issue. Jack's hand was warm. He was grinning now.

He met Jack's eyes again. "That's what I wanted," Daniel continued. "Touching you feels really good." Jack squeezed his hand. His eyes were eloquent. Daniel continued, "I'm really, really glad you're okay...." It was so difficult, expressing his feelings, without verbal feedback. He didn't want to say too much. And yet... Jack's eyes were encouraging him to go on. "I've been thinking about you a lot, ever since the other night. I'm so sorry this happened to you. I'm glad I can be here to see you." Jack squeezed his hand again, and Daniel smiled.

The silence didn't seem awkward at all, then. Daniel was aware of something between them, something comfortable, a connection that didn't really need any more words. Maybe it was because they were touching. Maybe that was communication, all by itself.

Daniel took a deep breath and let it out. Jack's lips twitched as if in recognition. Daniel let his eyes rest on their joined hands, and let the silence stretch. No, it didn't feel awkward at all. Not now.

"Jack!"

It was a woman's voice, behind him. Jack sat up a little straighter, but he didn't let go of Daniel's hand. In fact he gripped it tighter. Not wanting to let go once he felt that, Daniel craned awkwardly to see over his shoulder. It was a woman, standing in the door, looking worried. The family resemblance was unmistakable.

"Hello," Daniel said. "He's all right, but the doctors have told him not to try to talk."

"Oh, Jack," the woman said, coming a little closer. "I'm Karen Radford. Jack's sister. Who are you?"

"Um, I'm Daniel Jackson," he said, sliding out of the chair and standing up to face her. He was off balance; Jack wasn't letting go of his hand. "I work here at the hospital."

"Oh," Karen said. She took a few steps into the room, then let go of the suitcase she'd wheeled behind her. "Jack! What have you done to yourself now." If the words were sharp, the tone was fond. She came to Jack's bedside on the other side from Daniel, and he reached up for her readily. Ignoring Daniel entirely, she bent and pressed her cheek to his, and then kissed him as she pulled away. "If you could talk, you'd be giving me a piece of your mind. I know what you'd say: 'You didn't need to come all this way. I'm fine.' " She shook her head, chafing Jack's knuckles. There were tears in her eyes.

"Let me get you a chair," Daniel said, and felt Jack release his hand. He went around the bed to pull up a chair behind Karen. "He's been writing with a notepad. It's around here somewhere," Daniel said.

Karen shot him a glance; a piercing brown gaze that was already familiar. She sat down, still holding her brother's hand. "Tell me what happened. If you don't mind," she added, perhaps realizing how brusque that sounded.

Daniel stood at the foot of the bed and recounted what he'd pieced together from Sam and from the other hospital personnel. He didn't mention the death of Graham Simmons. He didn't know if Jack had been told yet, and he didn't want that news delivered in an offhand manner. Jack's sister listened avidly, glancing away often to look at Jack. He'd closed his eyes.

When Daniel was done, Karen looked at Jack accusingly. "What do you have to say for yourself, then?"

He waved a deprecating hand, making the beads on his wrist clack.

Daniel had her attention again. She hadn't let go of Jack's hand. Daniel understood the feeling. She said, "You don't look like a doctor. Or a nurse, actually."

"No; actually I'm a psychologist."

"Ah," Karen said, then looked at Jack, who had pulled his hand away and was scribbling.

 _Don't need a shrink,_ Jack's note read. _He's a friend._

"Is that what they're calling it these days," Karen muttered. She hitched her chair, pointedly turning further away from Daniel. To Jack she said, "It sounds like you had a narrow escape. I'm extremely glad you're all right."

Daniel folded his arms. Jack was writing again. His note read, _Thanks for coming. Carter didn't need to worry you like this but I'm glad you're here._

"Well, then, if Mr. Jackson would excuse us..." Yes, definitely her glance had turned frosty.

Jack was writing. In the short pause, his sister sighed, as if annoyed by the delay.

 _Come back soon and spring me_ , Jack wrote, and he turned the paper directly to Daniel. He was frowning. Daniel smiled to himself. What did Karen have against him? He didn't like to think.

"It was nice to meet you, Ms. Radford. Take care, Jack."

And he left.

~~~

_"Is that what they're calling it these days..."_

Daniel knew he was wrong to brood about whatever Jack's sister might have thought or said about the two of them after he left the room. He also knew that, family ties being what they were, it was totally logical and predictable that Jack's sister might choose to continue to love her brother and do anything she could for him, while saving all her homophobic judgment and criticism for his lover.

Did he dare use that word? Did he?

He did. He wanted to. They'd only been together once, but Daniel had not stopped replaying those memories. And he'd been very much looking forward to their next encounter.

But now, he tried to be professional. He tried to extend compassion. He tried to use all his considerable skills to empathize with Karen Radford, to understand her point of view.

But the upshot was, he didn't check on Jack again for over a day, and when he did, he checked in at a time when he was almost certain the sister would not be there: First thing in the morning. Even before the doctors made their rounds.

Jack was asleep. The lights in his room were dimmed, and the TV was a blank square. Jack was lying on his back, one arm bent up beside his head, one tangled in the blankets. His broken leg had slid off the pillows it had been propped on for the night. When Daniel got close he could see Jack was frowning in his sleep. His IV was gone; he must be on oral medication only now. It was a good sign. Daniel hoped with all this heart that he was bouncing back from whatever poison he had inhaled, and that the daytime traction was speeding his healing. He hoped his lungs were healthy and that he could regain his voice soon.

That dry, rich voice -- full of irony and humor, matching the wry glint in those dark brown eyes.

Yeah. Daniel was a goner. For sure.

~~~

"You really shouldn't try to talk, O'Neill." T. was holding his hand like he was his dad or his brother, sitting there beside the hospital bed.

"Gotta try," Jack rasped. "See how it feels."

It felt like crap, is what it felt like.

"Quit it. You listen; I'll talk," T. said, and proceeded to rattle on about events at the station, the new apron the crew had gotten for Quinn, Carter's dad's cancer diagnosis, the scuttlebutt that she was dating a cop, and various antics of his and Shawna's new puppy.

Finally T. glanced at his watch and stood up. "Oh and..." he looked down and clasped his hands in front of him, like a kid called to the principal's office. "Simmons' funeral is tomorrow. I don't know if you--"

"I'll get there. You guys will get me there," Jack rasped. "Or Karen. Or somebody." _Or Daniel._

T. nodded. Without another word, he patted Jack's shin, and turned and left.

Jack closed his eyes and sank back on the pillows. He'd succeeded in not thinking about Simmons so far, but sooner or later he would need to. Carter had broken the news to him yesterday. She was taking it hard. They all were.

Karen was a good egg, to come all this way. He hadn't seen Daniel yet today, though, and he hadn't come by in some time.... and that bothered Jack. He'd hoped he would had time to come by, between his appointments. Maybe that was silly of him. Karen had given Jack yet another piece of her mind -- another unwanted lecture about men, about Daniel. She, unlike him, was still very, very Catholic. Very traditional. Yes, she loved him, but that sure didn't stop her from sharing her opinion of what she deprecatingly called his "lifestyle." She didn't make the air quotes, but he could hear them. He had listened, stoically, and finally he had scribbled, _Are you done?_. She'd taken the hint.

Come to think of it, maybe it was clear why Daniel hadn't come back to see him.

Dammit.

~~~

Karen was entirely ready to take him to the funeral. Doc Fraiser glared at him when he wrote out his note about going, but she knew he had to. She'd treated too many of his crew, through the years, to refuse him this. She understood about the brotherhood. Sisterhood. Fraternity. Whatever you called it these days, when Carter was the latest of their department's two percent.

Anyway. Karen drove him, and he had to accept a humiliating amount of help to get into her car, and he had insisted he could use crutches but Fraiser said the only way she'd let him go was in a wheelchair. Wheelchair or nothing, she'd insisted. So T. and the others had met them to push him along the gravel walkways -- it took someone big like T. to do it; no way Karen could have handled the chair. His leg was propped out in front of him. It hurt, and he'd pay later, he figured, but he had to be there.

The entire service was outdoors, at the cemetery. Simmons hadn't been a church person, apparently, so this was it. The service was conducted by the fire department's chaplain. There were lots of chairs, and they were all full, and there were masses of people standing quietly behind the chairs, and beside the chairs, under the trees. Masses of uniforms. During the singing, Jack scanned the crowd, and found Daniel off to the side, three rows back, standing, his hands folded in front of him. It was the first time Jack had seen him wearing a tie.

As if feeling his gaze, Daniel, still singing, turned his head and met Jack's eyes. It gave Jack a jolt, and broke loose a bunch of feelings he had for Daniel, and a bunch of feelings about Simmons that Jack had been avoiding. Jack's eyes filled with tears and he looked down.

Later, when he could stand it, as the service went on, he looked Daniel's way again, and Daniel met his eyes with a rueful smile, as if he understood everything Jack was feeling, from a distance.

Jack sighed, long and carefully, because his ribs still hurt and his butt was sore and the cast's edge was digging into his thigh, and felt T. put a heavy hand on his shoulder. Jack reached up and patted it.

He tried to tune in to the minister. Tried to think about Simmons, and to say goodbye.

~~~

"I can stay longer," Karen said, scrunching up the strap of her purse and reaching down to pat the handle of her rolling suitcase.

"It'll be fine," Jack said, as firmly as he could in the stage whisper he'd graduated to.

He'd been allowed up, a little, on crutches, but Doc Fraiser kept muttering things about his blood chemistry and the risk of clots, yada, yada, and setbacks because of him getting out of traction too soon for the funeral, and she wouldn't let him go home. It would drive him crazy in a couple more days. Karen didn't need to hang around for that. She had a job and kids to think about.

"Oh, Jack," she said, and came close to hug him. "I'll call you when I get home," she said, and she was gone, bustling out the door so he wouldn't see her cry.

Daniel must have had a couple of the LPNs on his payroll, plying them with coffee and chocolate, or something, because not a half hour later, there he was. The sky was getting dim outside Jack's window when he sauntered in, hands in his pockets. He had some kind of silky long-sleeved shirt on. He looked great.

He stood at the foot of Jack's bed, looking at Jack over the top of his glasses, his expression uncertain as he studied Jack's face.

Jack realized a grin was trying to form, and he thought, _What the hell,_ , and let it. Daniel started to smile, too, then, and pulled his hands out of his pockets and stood a little straighter.

"Pull up a chair," Jack rasped. Daniel did. Jack reached for him, and Daniel, looking surprised, let Jack pull him closer. He wasn't getting it. Jack tilted his head and leaned in at an angle that made him want to wince at the way it jammed his thigh against the edge of his cast. Daniel finally understood that Jack was going to kiss him, and closed the distance. Their lips met, warm and soft, and Jack closed his eyes at the bliss of it. Daniel, for his part, sighed as if he couldn't believe it. He put a warm hand on Jack's cheek.

"That's better," Jack said against his mouth. "Sorry about Karen."

"Don't try to talk too much," Daniel said absently as he leaned back. He was holding Jack's hand. And not in a brotherly way at all. And he was searching Jack's face, and letting his gaze travel up and down, as if he could catch up with Jack's progress, log what had been going on with him, in the days since Daniel had made himself scarce.

Jack nodded agreement and let him look his fill, even though he wasn't much to look at. He'd been shaving, of course, but he needed a shower. And he was looking too -- drinking Daniel in. The accident had happened too soon after their date. He felt like they had been interrupted somehow. It was too soon to start missing the guy; he barely knew him, for Pete's sake, but he had. Missed him.

"I missed you," Daniel said, on that thought, which made Jack smile. "I could see that your sister wasn't too thrilled with me, and since she was keeping you company, and the crew were here with you so much, I didn't feel... That is, every in-patient does better with an advocate, and it was clear you had--"

"It's okay," Jack said. "I wish you'd been here. I'm sorry she was so rude."

"Well. Then," Daniel said. He'd taken Jack's hand in both of his, and he was looking down, letting his thumb trace along one of Jack's fingers, over and over, fidgeting.

After a moment, Daniel said, "When do you get to go home?"

"Dunno. Fraiser's worried about blood clots, and this cast is a beast."

Daniel nodded. "Do you need anything right now? A snack? Something to drink?"

"I'm in pretty good shape.... Now," Jack said, and he reached over to cup Daniel's jaw with his free hand. Daniel's eyes fell closed.

"I missed you too," Jack whispered.

~~~

A few days later, Daniel made it a point to be in Jack's room at Dr. Fraiser's normal time for morning rounds.

She had raised her eyebrows when Jack, looking a bit surprised himself at Daniel's presence so early in the day, confirmed that it was fine with him that Daniel stay during the exam, but that was the extent of her reaction. She went right on with her check of Jack's vitals, and her check of the rest of him. She was doing all she could to rule out any elusive blood clots.

This was Daniel's moment. He'd decided to take the bull by the horns. "Is it possible that he could get discharged sooner if he had someone to stay with him? Help monitor things?"

"Well," Dr. Fraiser said, looking at Jack. His happily surprised and receptive expression apparently decided things for her. "Yes, actually. With the type of fracture he had, he can't get out of the full-leg cast for another three weeks, and it's always a bad idea for someone on crutches to try to navigate alone. Also if he were to have an episode of clotting, although that's unlikely" -- and here she patted Jack's shoulder reassuringly -- "it would be essential to get him back to the hospital immediately. Someone else might have to make that call. So, yes. Help at home would be definite plus."

"Then I'm offering," Daniel said.

The relief that bloomed on Jack's face was a beautiful thing. It made Daniel warm all over.

Dr. Fraiser glanced from Jack to Daniel, and was clearly hiding her smile. "I can get the paperwork started, then, Chief O'Neill, if that's what you want. How does tomorrow morning sound?"

Jack cleaned his throat. He was still whispering. His voice was coming back very slowly, and his struggle to talk always twisted something in Daniel's heart. "Great, doc. That sounds great."

When she left, her heels clacking briskly down the hallway, Jack shook his head. "This is not really the way I wanted to say 'Your place or mine,' this time, but I guess it'll have to do."

Daniel didn't even glance behind him before he leaned in and kissed Jack. There was no judgmental sister to try to freeze him out, not now. "Your place it is," Daniel whispered.

It was the three men from the firehouse crew, the ones Daniel had seen at various times in Jack's room, who helped Daniel settle Jack back at home -- another thing Daniel would have been surprised about, if he'd had time to think. Because someone of Jack's generation (Daniel suspected he was about ten years older), in Jack's line of work, in this part of the country, someone whom Daniel suspected was probably ex-military -- well. Even in the 21st century, guys like that weren't always out.

He didn't say much to Andrew Siler in the bustle of getting to Jack's house, letting Siler set the tone -- interactions with former patients could be dicey -- but Siler had greeted him warmly and shaken his hand, making a joke about how high-maintenance the chief could be. Daniel had grinned in relief.

Jack seemed to have no problem telling, and showing, his crew exactly how things stood -- how Daniel would be staying with him, how grateful he was for that. When he was settled in a recliner in his light-flooded living room, holding Daniel's hand, he attempted to order the others around, telling them where to put the wheelchair and the stuff he'd had with him in the hospital, until the towering fire fighter that they all addressed as T. told him to stop talking, "or you'll sound like a chihuahua tomorrow."

Daniel had tried not to smile at how they all humored Jack, saying "Yes, sir," to all his commands, while simply doing as they saw fit. He imagined things weren't quite so mutinous in the field.

As Andrew, T. and Jonas Quinn were getting ready to leave, Sam Carter knocked to announce herself and then opened the door, poking her head in to call that she needed help with the grocery sacks.

Everyone trooped out to help her unload her truck, and Daniel had to insist that he should help too, not just stand there holding Jack's hand.

"Security blanket," Jack rasped, making Daniel grin. But he prevailed upon Jack to let him help.

Eventually they all left, and Daniel called his thanks behind them, down the sidewalk, and shut the big door firmly. He turned, from his higher vantage spot by the door, taking in the comfortable room with its tall windows, full of mementoes and, yes, framed medals (ex-military, check), and, most important, Daniel's emotional centerpiece, Jack, who had leaned his head back on the recliner cushions and closed his eyes.

Daniel crossed to the dining room and picked up a chair, bringing it down to place it beside the recliner. Jack didn't open his eyes, but groped for his hand. The sharp squeeze he gave was easy to translate. It meant "thank you."

Daniel said, "I know this isn't the normal way relationships get started, and I hope you don't think I'm being too pushy or, God forbid, manipulative, but thank you for letting me help you. I've come to care about you very much in a very short time and I'm so glad I can do this for you."

Jack opened his eyes then, and smiled. He said, "Yeah. That."

Daniel squeezed his hand in turn, and said, "Now I have cupboards to explore, because I'm not staying unless there's coffee, and I have a feeling there's some takeout in there with our names on it."

Jack, still smiling, closed his eyes again and waved him off. "Knock yourself out," he whispered.

~~~

It was a strange existence, the next month. Daniel had a new commute, a new morning routine, and someone to text-message during the day -- he had insisted on that, to save Jack's voice.

And he had a new bedroom. To both their disappointments, until Jack graduated to a walking cast, it had become clear that it would be simply too uncomfortable for them to share a bed. They made do with kisses, and occasional extended makeout sessions on the sofa. They both joked about it.

"Something to look forward to," Jack said, every time they reluctantly parted, and Daniel would dip his head to hide his smile. He was falling fast for this guy; their enforced domesticity tugging at heartstrings that Daniel hadn't known he possessed, and he hesitated to let Jack know the full extent of what he was feeling, afraid it was too much, too fast. Just as he had feared from that first day he'd stayed here.

Dr. Fraiser's concern about blood clots mercifully did not materialize. Jack's voice steadily improved. He became adept at navigating his house on crutches, and as often as not, Daniel would come in the door after work to find him in the kitchen, cooking something, leaning comfortably on his custom-padded crutches while standing by the stove. Sometimes he'd call, "Is that you, Desi?", which broke Daniel up, every time. He didn't like to read too much into it.

Then came the banner day when Jack did, in fact, graduate to a walking cast.

~~~

Jesus, it felt good to be able to take the damn splint off when he lay down in bed. He'd gotten so good with the crutches after a month of this noise that he was able to assure Fraiser that he'd be fine without the support of the cast at night, even though by her standards it was a week early, and he had the satisfaction of reminding her that yes, someone would be looking out for him, even in the dark, so stop worrying and let him heal.

Now, leaning back on pillows in his own bed, the Rockies game on the TV on the bureau with the sound low, and his leg stretched out in front of him, pale and shriveled though it was, propped on only one pillow -- this was heaven. No fucking cast. And Daniel had been visibly relieved at the idea that he could check for the blood clot thing himself now, directly, without having to grill Jack on the types of pain he was or was not having in that leg.

Yeah. Pretty much heaven on earth, here.

Here came Daniel now, appearing in the bedroom door like Jack's personal Florence Nightengale. He'd taken the afternoon off because of Jack's folderol of getting switched over to the new walking thing, and a session with the PT guy assigning him things he could do to get the strength back in that leg, slowly.

And oh shit. Daniel had two beers in his hands.

"I thought we could celebrate. Now that you're, you know, out of that thing and off all the heavy duty medication."

"Will you marry me," Jack said breathlessly, reaching for the icy bottle of Shiner Bock, which was an absolutely perfect choice, and Daniel looked away, trying to smile.

Shit. Not the kind of thing he should really be kidding around about, under the circumstances, should he?

"Hey, look -- double play!" It was as good a misdirection as he could think of, in the moment, and Daniel pretended to be interested although they had agreed to disagree about baseball while agreeing enthusiastically about hockey a while back. Daniel found a spare pillow and settled on the bed beside Jack, to sip his own beer and watch the rest of the inning.

This guy.... this guy had come out of left field, hit Jack like a ton of bricks.... yeah, mixed metaphors, yada, but any words you used to try to convey the impact of Dr. Daniel Jackson on Jack's life would be inadequate. Jack let himself trace Daniel's profile. His firm chin, his glasses, reflecting the blue motion on the TV, his perennially mussed hair, his thoughtful stillness, his facsimile of rest.... He was always thinking ahead, this doc was... always one step ahead, never quite here in the moment. Jack knew that even as he watched Daniel drink a beer and let himself sprawl next to Jack on the bed, Daniel was thinking about dinner, about cooking, about crutches, about making sure Jack's new awkward walking splint would be to hand no matter what, about his own cases for the next day, the next week... etc. etc. His mind was never still, this Daniel. Never. It intrigued Jack as much as it had, occasionally, worn him out, this month.

This month.

They'd spent over a month as enforced roommates. Daniel's generosity in making that offer still just killed Jack. It was something he would never have asked of his sister; or hell, of T., or Carter, who both would have offered if they'd thought he'd ever agree.... yet he'd been happy to have Daniel's help in this way, where with pretty much anyone else he would have been focused on their inconvenience and on his exploded privacy.

But it was different with Daniel.

Everything was different with Daniel.

The Rockies scored another run, and Daniel dutifully cheered, but Jack could see his heart wasn't in it. That didn't matter, though. Not really. Just like it didn't matter at all that Jack couldn't follow half the psychology jargon that Daniel, forgetting his audience, included in his monologues when he was venting at the end of a tough work day -- carefully venting with all identifying details expunged, of course. He was nothing if not professional.

But that didn't matter either. What mattered was that Daniel was here. With him. That they were together.

"Hey," Jack said, and Daniel's head swiveled to look at him, eyebrows rising, his attention, for once, wholly here and now.

Jack solemnly reached up with his free hand, the one without the beer, and pulled Daniel's glasses off, and leaned in -- blessed, blessed absence of that damned plastic cutting into his thigh -- and pressed his lips to Daniel's.

Daniel grunted a little in pleased surprise, and his hand cupped the back of Jack's head. The kiss lingered, turned into two or three more shallow, affectionate kisses, and then formed itself into something with more depth, heat and purpose.

After a long breathless time, Jack leaned his head back, eyes closed. Someone was cheering on the TV, and then it was a commercial about car insurance.

Jack said, "I'm really, really glad you're here," and then Daniel was kissing him again.

They didn't get much further than that, because all too soon Daniel muttered something about dinner. Which Jack could see the beauty of, too. Daniel heaved a huge sigh and got up and looked around for his glasses, which Jack handed to him. Daniel put them on with an air of surprise. He collected Jack's beer bottle, and then Jack reached up and put a hand on his hip.

"Stay in here tonight. Now that I've got that lousy cast off. Stay in here with me."

Daniel lit up like a Christmas tree.

"I'd like that," he said.

"Good," Jack said.

Daniel made them dinner, which Jack suggested they eat in his bedroom -- there was another game on after the Rockies finished up, a West Coast game, and he didn't see the point in moving. So Daniel pulled up a chair to the bedside. After dinner, there was ice cream, and then the game was over.

Daniel folded his arms and oversaw Jack taking his, mercifully, much abbreviated schedule of meds, and then Jack handed him the water glass and met his eyes and said, "I know it's early, but why don't you come on back here. Lie down."

The smile Daniel gave him was positively evil.

He went into the master bathroom, and Jack heard him brushing his teeth. There was a delay and some rustling, and when Daniel came back in, he was wearing only his boxers. He'd left his glasses in the bathroom. He climbed onto the bed and planted a hand on either side of Jack's chest.

He kissed Jack, long and slow and wet, and drew back to say, smiling, "Would this be the something that you've been looking forward to?"

"You know it," Jack replied, and put his arms around him to drag him closer again and kiss him senseless. Pretty soon Daniel rolled them to their sides, pulling back to check anxiously, "Is this okay?"

Jack said, "Yeah, as long as I'm horizontal, everything's fine," and the frown line disappeared from between Daniel's eyebrows and he pressed in for another incinerating kiss.

As Jack pulled him close, he felt Daniel's hand slip down below both his elastic waistbands -- he'd taken to wearing a succession of ancient cut-off sweat pants, since he'd been home, because of the big cast. Then Daniel cupped his hand around Jack's fast-hardening dick.

"Oh, yeah," Jack murmured against Daniel's mouth, and pressed in with his hips. God, this was good. After weeks of pain and awkwardness, it was beyond wonderful to just get to lie here and feel so good. And with such a wonderful partner to provide the feeling-good! Jack found himself wondering what he had done to deserve this.

Jack slid a hand down Daniel's back, enjoying the contours of the firm muscles under his hand, until he reached the slight dip just above his waistband. He pressed there, inviting, and Daniel groaned into the kiss and squeezed his dick harder.

Jack moved against him, hardening fully in just a few seconds, feeling Daniel's dick against his thigh, and letting Daniel control their fast-deepening kiss. Daniel's dick was pointing down, pushing against the flimsy barrier of his underwear, and against Jack's thigh, and Jack's mouth watered, remembering what it had tasted like, that one night they'd been together at Daniel's place. It was so gratifying to know that despite Jack's condition, Daniel seemed to be perfectly happy with how things were going. The harder Jack pressed the small of his back, the more enthusiastic Daniel's tongue became in his mouth.

Jack simply melted and let it happen.

Pretty soon Daniel pulled back, and Jack opened his eyes when he felt Daniel's fingers on his face. Daniel's other hand was still exploring his dick, his fingers confined somewhat by Jack's underwear and shorts.

Daniel whispered, "I've thought about that date we had, so often. The way you went down on me, how you made me feel. I've been wanting for all these weeks to do that to you. Can I?"

His expression was so open, his eyes so intense, like he was inviting Jack to look straight into his soul. Another piece of Jack's heart melted.

"Me too. And of course you can. Is that...?"

But Daniel was already grinning and pushing himself lower in the bed. His hand, inside the warm press of Jack's clothes, moved aside from Jack's erection to press at his hip and urge him to lie on his back again.

"Yes," Daniel growled as he finished Jack's question and answered it, all at once. "That's what I want."

His tone made Jack think he might be getting impatient, but once he had Jack on his back again, he pushed himself up to kiss Jack some more; long exploratory kisses that Jack was all to happy to get lost in.

Then Daniel spent a while moving down Jack's body, first running his lips and his cheek along Jack's jawbone, kissing the pulse point there, kissing Jack's neck, finding the ticklish places and making him squirm, which was followed by a whispered, and, Jack felt, wholly insincere "Sorry." Daniel's voice had way too much amusement in it for Jack to believe he felt truly regretful. Jack, for his part, was running curious hands along Daniel's back and sides, enjoying all that sleek muscle and smooth skin.

Daniel took a while getting down Jack's torso, pressing himself up in a half-pushup while he licked and tongued his way across and down. He used his teeth a little when he got close to Jack's navel, there in the softer space where his ribs spread wide, and Jack groaned and pressed up with his hips. This was getting way too close to teasing, now. Daniel laughed, then, low and throaty, as if he realized how he was starting to drive Jack crazy.

He raised himself up on his knees, his legs splayed around Jack's good leg. Jack realized he had spread his legs wide without conscious thought, to get his bad leg out of the way, and Daniel had adapted, seamlessly. Jack smiled. Daniel looked great up there -- his skin flushed, his muscles flexed to hold himself upright, his erection pushing against the slit in his boxers. Jack put his hand there and licked his lips at the memory.

Daniel was meeting his eyes, looking hungry and determined again, and he plucked at Jack's waistband and Jack reluctantly let his hands leave Daniel's skin in order to plant them on the mattress and raise himself, as best he could, to let Daniel pull his shorts down.

It was awkward, and in the end they couldn't accomplish it except by moving further apart than Jack suspected either of them wanted to, but a bonus was that while Daniel was briefly standing up at the side of the bed, he skimmed out of his own boxers too, and then Jack got to feast his eyes on that gorgeous hard dick as Daniel climbed back over him.

Daniel kissed him again, with a sudden, shocking press of the length of his body against Jack, but he said as he pulled his mouth away, "I can't stand it, I don't want to just rub off against you, let me..."

And Jack had the presence of mind to get up on an elbow and to say, over the end of Daniel's trailed-off statement, "Let me touch you, while you... Let me touch..."

Daniel groaned, and with a sudden press of his hands and a shift of his weight, he was leaning over Jack's thigh, his elbow planted between Jack's splayed legs, and his package was right there, right there for Jack's gaze, Jack's touch, as Daniel leaned and turned and took Jack's leaking dick into his mouth.

Jack groaned, and tried to keep his eyes open, because there was so much to see. Daniel's mouth, and his own dick disappearing into it, and the sweep of Daniel's torso, all those gorgeous muscles engaged as Daniel tried as best he could to put none of his weight on Jack as he worked him over. Beside all that glorious sensation was the mouth-watering nearness of Daniel's groin, fully on view as he lay on his side, his legs drawn up and sprawling off the side of the bed.

Jack soon gave up trying to watch, and let his elbow collapse, but he was successful in groping a hand over to caress Daniel's dick and balls as Daniel really got busy, sucking and stroking, holding Jack's good thigh in a firm grip all the time.

It all got very confused and blurry, there, but Jack was fucking Daniel's encouraging mouth, at the end, barely holding on to his control, and there was no pain, no pain at all, just a confusion of motion in muscles that hadn't been called on in weeks, and a pleasant burn in his legs and his hips and his buttocks, while the raging, roaring white ecstasy spread from his dick and balls up his spine and finally broke over him in an obliterating wave.

When he could think again, Daniel's hard cock was leaking under his fingers, and Daniel was moaning a little, way back in his throat, as his lips and mouth gentled Jack's fast-softening dick through the last spurts of his climax.

Jack winced as Daniel's mouth tightened around his shaft and pulled off, a little too fast, and then Daniel was groaning and moving everywhere, pulling his gorgeous package away from Jack's questing hand, pulling his hot skin away from Jack's.

Jack opened his eyes to see Daniel above him, his knees supporting him on either side of Jack's good leg, his face a contorted mask of pleasure, and he was touching himself, stripping himself quickly, shifting his weight back onto his heels, and it was gorgeous, Jesus, it was like a skin flick made real, Daniel jerking himself off, eyes closed, his face consumed by ecstasy, right here, right over Jack.

And then Daniel was stilling, his body clenching, only his hand still moving, much more slowly, right over the head of his cock, as he called Jack's name and came, his come spurting between his fingers to splash on his own thighs and on Jack's.

Jack clenched his hands on Daniel's hips and thought he'd never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

Then Daniel was finishing, half-collapsing, leaning on one arm, and he bowed his head, curling down toward Jack.

"Baby," Jack said, and cupped Daniel's cheeks in both hands. That drew an amused smile from Daniel, and Jack could tell he would have rolled his eyes if he'd been able to. He was still coming down, obviously. That made Jack feel so good, though he'd simply been here, watching with joy as Daniel got himself off.

"Sorry," Jack murmured, but Daniel said, "No," and then he let go of himself to brace his arms on either side of Jack's head. He kissed him again, sloppy and satisfied, before he let himself fall to one side. Jack let his eyes fall shut, then, and he lifted his hand across his body to connect with Daniel's side, and then they were both asleep.

~~~

It was dark when Daniel woke, and it took him a minute to remember where he was. When he did, he exhaled, long and relieved. In Jack's bed, in Jack's house. Together. After some spectacular sex that had been just as wonderful as the first time they had been together.

He'd wanted this. He'd waited for this for what seemed like forever.

Jack must have heard him sigh, because he spoke immediately and he sounded entirely awake.

"Hey," Daniel heard, a faint rumbly whisper, and he could see Jack's eyes glitter in the faint light from the hall.

"Hey," Daniel breathed in response, and he reached a hand to stroke whatever of Jack's skin first fell under it. "That was great."

"Yeah," Jack agreed, and his hand closed over Daniel's and squeezed, making Daniel close his eyes.

This was too much. How could he be feeling this much?

"I just," Jack began, and then he trailed off.

"What?" Daniel said before he could stop himself. He shouldn't push, he shouldn't expect...

"I'm falling in love with you," Jack blurted. "If you don't want that, you should leave right away. Because..."

"God, Jack," Daniel said, pulling himself closer, trying to remember about Jack's fragile leg, trying to hold back his feeling of urgency as he pulled whatever of Jack he could find in the darkness closer. His relief was intense as he felt Jack's arm come around him, holding on just as hard. "I do want that. I was afraid.... I'm falling in love with you, too," he finished, making it simple, echoing Jack's momentous words. But there was one more thing. One thing he wanted to say. "I want to stay. If that's what you want."

Jack made a noise that was part sigh and part groan, and his arm tightened further around Daniel.

Then he said, "Okay, good," he said, against Daniel's neck, and Daniel closed his eyes and held on.

~~~

Jack didn't really need his help to walk, or even to drive, for his last appointment with Dr. Fraiser. But Daniel took the morning off and went up to her office with him anyway.

As they walked into the hospital together, side by side, a surprising number of staff greeted them or smiled knowingly in passing. Daniel knew nearly everyone on the day staff, after all, and because of Jack's line of work, he knew a few people here too. Jack's smiled brightened when an intern wearing last summer's softball tournament T-shirt under her lab coat waved at them. She'd gotten a single off Jack, he remembered fondly. What was her name? Brightman; that was it. The friendliness of their coworkers was healing, after the fit that his sister had thrown about Daniel when Jack had told her it was serious. Well, she'd get over it, or she wouldn't. Jack wasn't going to lose any sleep over that.

They made it up to Dr. Fraiser's office, and she hardly made him wait at all, but she clucked at him busily, even though the news was all good. Finally, she handed him a form that cleared him for duty, to grins all around.

When they were back out on the front steps, the intense December sun warm on their faces despite the cold air, Jack pulled his sunglasses up with one hand and took Daniel's hand with the other.

He said, "So, you up for stopping by the station before we have lunch? Because I can't wait to tell the guys the bad news."

"That you're back?" Daniel said, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. "They'll take that as bad news?" The crew, separately or together, had been a steady presence at Jack's house, all these weeks, for meals, for football night, for chess. And they'd been embarrassingly helpful when Jack and gone one step further from Daniel's statement, that night, about staying, and suggested that they go ahead and move Daniel's stuff from his condo to the house, since, after all, he'd gotten used to Daniel being underfoot all the time. Daniel had questioned his word choice, laughing at him, but had said yes.

He'd said yes.

And now he was laughing again, saying "yes" again with his whole presence, his smile flashing white, his breath a cloud on the cold air. He used those dumb little clip-on sunglasses. But on him, they worked. Face it -- for Jack, about him, everything worked.

"Oh, yeah," Jack persisted. "For that crew, I'm nothing but bad news." He started down the steps, pulling Daniel's hand.

"I could eat," Daniel said, ignoring the rest of the argument, and he grinned, and let himself be pulled.

end


End file.
